CHAPTER FOUR


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Morning brought with it an awakening, both physical and mental. As the sun filtered in through the curtains, bathing her in light, Buffy’s splintered memories rushed back. She remembered everything – her mom, her friends, her lovers, her enemies. She remembered what she had lost and instantly wished she hadn’t. She sat up but couldn’t move any further, bombarded with memories of her past.

Finally, the haze lifted completely and the events of the day before came back to her. Waking in that dark box, desperately trying to fight her way out. Her gaze went to her hands and she saw the still-raw cuts on her hands, her broken nails. And Spike. Spike had pulled her out into the world once more. He had brought her home and her friends – her friends were the ones who had done this. She remembered their happy faces, their barrage of questions. They had brought her back to this.

And Dawn, poor Dawn. She couldn’t imagine what her sister had gone through without her. How long had she been gone? She had too many questions, too many memories whirling around her mind and she forced herself out of bed.



It was still early and the house was eerily quiet. She washed and dressed and crept down the corridor towards Dawn’s room. She pushed the door open and the light spilled in, lighting up the sleeping girl. Dawn stirred and lifted her head, her gaze filling with relief as she spotted Buffy – as if she thought yesterday had been a dream.

“Buffy?”

“It’s okay, I’m just- I, err, I wanted to check…”

She trailed off, not sure what she wanted to say.

“Are you… are you okay?” Dawn asked.

She met Dawn’s worried gaze and gave her a shaky smile.

“I’m fine, I’m just a little…”

“Yeah, of course. Do you want me to get you something?,” Dawn asked, already rising from her bed, “I could do breakfast or-“

“No, it’s okay. I… It’s early still. Go back to sleep,” she insisted, “I might… I might just go for a walk.”

“Oh…okay,” Dawn said, settling back onto her bed.

She gave the girl another shaky smile and went to shut the door once more.

“I’m so glad you’re back, Buffy,” Dawn called and she paused, turning to regard her sister once more.

Unable to echo the sentiment, she simply nodded and with a small smile, pulled the door shut behind her.



She wandered down the stairs and took in the changed appearance with a quick glance. She had not asked yesterday but as soon as she saw the laptop and books nearby, she could guess that Willow – and probably Tara too – were living here now. So much had changed. Had it been months? A year? It had seemed like a lifetime for her.

She didn’t know what to do, lost and unfamiliar in her own house, so she headed outside, into the bright morning. The light hurt her eyes for a moment, but she soon grew accustomed to it and took in her street in the early morning light. Everything was still and she moved on quietly, eyes taking in sights she had not seen for – for however long it had been.

Her thoughts drifted back to the events of last night and her mind stopped on Spike. If it was not for him, she might never have got out of that hole. Something in her, despite her dazed state, had trusted him implicitly. And he had led her home, had watched over. There was something strangely unsurprising about his presence, as if it had been meant to be that way. As if he had always been there. Knowing that he would answer her questions – after all, he had always been a fount of honesty before - her feet now turned in the direction of the cemetery where Spike lived.



The crypt was unchanged since she had last seen it but for just a moment she paused, wondering if Spike could have moved on to somewhere else. There was only one way to find out and she went to the heavy door, pushing it open cautiously. Light flooded into the room and several familiar objects were illuminated in the gloom. Certain that this was still where Spike lived, she ventured in, looking around the crypt for any sign of the vampire.

Suddenly, she heard a noise from below and a moment later, Spike appeared, a knife gripped in his left hand.

“Buffy!” he got out in surprise as he spotted her.

“Hi.”

“Talking today,” he noted, “That’s good.”

She smiled hesitantly and he cleared his throat, setting the knife down on a ledge.

“You can, err, sit,” he said quietly, gesturing to the only chair.

She was amused by Spike’s sudden awkwardness around her now that she was talking again but as she sat and caught sight of his concerned expression, her smile disappeared.

“Are you… How are you feeling?”

She met his eyes and was momentarily lost for words. Lost, confused, scared.

“I’m… I’m fine. I, err, I actually had some questions.”

“No-one at home?” he asked in surprise.

“Oh, erm, yeah. I just… I wanted… I thought it would be easier to… to ask you.”

His eyes widened with silent surprise and he leant against a nearby sarcophagus, watching her carefully, waiting.



She shuffled nervously for a moment, but then forced her eyes to his.

“How long was I gone?”

She saw the pain flitter across his expression, but he swallowed hard and held her gaze.

“Hundred forty-seven days.”

Was that it? Barely five months. Something in her face must have reflected what she was thinking because he spoke up again.

“How long was it for you… where you were?”

A lifetime. And more.

“Longer.”

He swallowed hard once more, his eyes darting to the floor and back to hers.

“Was it… was it awful?” he whispered, visibly struggling to say the words.

She paused, her pre-prepared answer stuck on her tongue. She looked to the ground and let out a long breath. She didn’t know why, but she knew she couldn’t lie to Spike. Even if it was going to break his heart.

“No.”

She hardly realised she had spoken out loud until she heard Spike’s sudden harsh breath. She raised her eyes to his and saw him silently pleading for her to explain.

“Where- where…”

“I think… I don’t really know, but I think I was… in heaven.”

“No,” he breathed, turning his back on her.

Although he had hidden his face, she could see by the tension in his whole body just how her words had affected him. He suddenly let out a cry and punched the top of the sarcophagus, letting out a groan of pain almost instantly.



She rose to her feet, drawn to his side, and placed her hand tentatively on the arm that still rested on the sarcophagus. He moved his hand and she saw the cuts he had just inflicted on himself.

“Your hand.”

“Same as yours,” he murmured with a quick glance at her hands, his eyes swimming with emotion when they met hers once more.
He cleared his throat, looked away, and then turned to face her.

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Buffy.”

“Why?” she asked in surprise.

“For… you… you were in heaven,” he breathed, “And now…”

“I’m pretty sure you weren’t in on the spell-doing.”

“I-“

“It’s okay, really. I’m… I’m here,” she said simply, forcing a tight smile.

He regarded her for a moment, reaching out with his hand to touch her shoulder – but pulling it back again.

“If… if you’re in pain, or if you need anything… if I can do anything for you…”

She shook her head silently, wishing he could.

“You can’t.”

His blue eyes bore into her, stripping away the layers of pretence and, growing uncomfortable, she moved away.

“Erm, my friends… don’t, err, tell them what I just told you.”

When she met his gaze, she noticed his surprise and she gave a half-smile.

“They were… happy and I… I can’t tell them what they did.”

He looked like he wanted to protest but stayed silent, watching her closely.

“Anyway, I should probably get back. Dawn will be waiting and… yeah…”

“If you… I’m always here, you know that,” he said softly, as she paused at the door.

“I know… Thank you.”

She gave another half smile and stepped out into the sunshine once more.